Extra Ordinary

this is getting old & i’m honestly not gaining much from it. i mean, what is the point? let’s say i do find some questionable evidence, the only thing that’s going to result from it is an argument, lost time being upset with one another, high levels of stress, all to make up again in a few hours. i have to accept what is out of my control, frightening. i finally trust him, yet i am still possessive, demanding… i have to allow him a certain degree of control as well. it’s only fair, still scary. now, i do it out of boredom. before, i though i would expose him. as i spend more & more time with him, i realize he is the same person i once knew; a bit more attractive, much more popular, but the same. it’s not like i will ever stop loving him or wanting him around so i suppose i will just have to simply enjoy the ride.

nothing at all; & you see absolutely nothing wrong with it. who knew a cry out for help could be such an annoyance. i am but a nuisance to you. i loved you & you can’t pretend that you played no part in my self-destruction. & now i am numb. i sit here & smile in all my misery because i prayed there will be a day that i was so empty nothing phased me. i could not bare the pain anymore. i would’ve had to end it. & now i feel nothing at all, not a thing at all; & you see nothing wrong with it. i feel so different now. the world does not look the same. i don’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks. i feel reckless, driving 80 down charleston boulevard. music on 28. all these years, in heartbreak, in heartache… hoping, hoping, hoping, fucking wishing you would love me. hoping & wishing you would prize me, as a person, as a lover, at least as a friend. nothing. how can i be angry at you when you have endured so much pain. when i know your pain so well my anger must sit in silence. again & again i tried to punish you when all i would ever do is punish myself because i couldn’t imagine a day without you. not one day. & now i often find myself wishing i never knew you. six years i felt like i wasn’t good enough. six fucking years i was there for you. gave you everything, every ounce of me. yet, it wasn’t enough. you wanted to have your cake and eat it too. admit it. how i often forget you are a man. a man with needs. a man who deserves the attention of other women. you attempted to april fools me & i felt nothing, nothing at all; & you will remain blind to it. fuck jessica, fuck nikki, fuck lexi, fuck whomever you want to fuck, but you will never have that piece of me again. ten times maybe, ha. all i can do is fucking laugh. when you touch me now i feel disgusting. i feel nothing. nothing at all. i forget to even hug you sometimes. a friend. i tried to be a friend & you still treat me the same. just as i thought. so now, here i am numb. i don’t cut anymore. i don’t feel pain. suicide is a joke. i will live & watch how miserable everyone is with their feelings because i am free of emotion. i will never love again & i don’t care. i will be alone. i don’t care. i step outside & the world looks beautiful to me. the silence soothes me because i hate to hear people’s voices sometimes. i hate dealing with people. i barely bother to even be social because i’m too numb to fucking care about their lives. where were you when i felt pain? nowhere. i struggled for years with severe depression & no one ever took a second look. everyone wrote it off as a “phase”; & breakdown, after breakdown, i began to break down my thoughts and realize i don’t give a fuck about these people. i don’t give a fuck about this town. yet, here i am. what will i do to surprise myself? the possibilities are infinite when you don’t feel a thing. what is fear, but a setback? so now i feel nothing, nothing at all; & i see absolutely nothing wrong with it. 

thank you. 

i used to be easily amused, but now i find myself very much underwhelmed by the world, in general. i don’t seem to possess the motivation or drive i once had. i barely have a desire to get out of bed in the afternoon. i often find myself coming to the conclusion of caring less and less for people. i have yet to come across anyone that has similar social standards as i. silly, i once thought i did not approve of myself. nonacceptance by your peers & the wider community tends to do that to you. for a long while, i had no goals or aspirations of any sort. i accomplished much of what i set forth on life as a child, with failures in the aspects i valued most. i gave up on seeking inspiration out of the comforts of men that never loved me in the right way. perhaps, a quarter life crisis, severe depression, & an underactive thyroid, were at the root of my destruction as well.

i miss you. i know i have a weird, quite self-destructive way of conveying it. but, this much is true. i fantasize about you every morning, lying here next to me. 

yes, i noticed. if you knew me well, the things that bother me the most i speak nothing of. what i choose to tell you is just a portion of the larger issue. i post less collages because of you, hoping to get a like. but, i’m just not pretty enough for you. my skin tone is brown, you prefer beige or a soft yellow. my hair is a nappy frizz, naturally; flat & “eh”, unnaturally. you prefer thick curls. when i began to see a pattern of the type of women you are drawn to, i try to emulate them. these fucking extensions, these lashes. only to match your definition of beauty. only to catch your eye. 

today i snoozed on my alarm instead of going to my first yin class. i don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. it’s something i really wanted to do; then i thought to myself, waking up at 10 a.m. is going to make this a really long day. you see, i am afraid of long days. i fear i will run out of things to keep me occupied. without distractions, all i can ever think about is you. i’m not sure, maybe this would be considered running away from my problems. but, you’re not a problem.. of mine.. are you? if so, did i make you a problem or at some point along the line did you just become one? i love talking to my dear friend; she makes me hopeful. we can be strong women, rule the world together. but, she also makes me hopeless. she says, “you’re an intelligent woman. i hope you see you’re not the only one. he doesn’t want you. & if so, he knows you too well; he knows the bare minimum required to keep you around.” she knows he’s not all bad. she said he reminds her a lot of herself. she wants to meet him so bad, but i know they will just get along too well; therefore, part of me doesn’t want to extend the invitation. he’s not a bad guy. & i know he fucked up that one time when he screwed around with nikki & i would like to think that’s the only time—even though he carries latex in his backpack & his jean pockets. part of me doesn’t think he would do such a thing. yet, the intuition, which often gets tied up with insecurities, agrees with her. i couldn’t of been the only one, after six years? i don’t believe it. i want to, but i feel like that would go along with all the other fairytales i believe in. 

i’m a perfectionist; & for the most part, i don’t think this quality works in my favor. you see, for the most part, perfectionist fall under the radar, they’re pretty low profile. then after awhile, others start to catch on & feel threatened that someone is able to maintain such a sought after quality. after all, most of us strive for perfection, & those of us who don’t have come accustomed to our continuous flaws. the perfectionist becomes a target because this individual makes everyone else’s downfalls even more apparent. they become the ‘example’, the one others should take note from. peers begin to hate the perfectionist and try to bring this individual down because they skew the playing field of what they deem possible, average, and impossible. at this point, i don’t know how to be or who to trust. i feel as if no one has my side, but at the end of the day, i know my actions were right. i realize that the consequences of this small, trivial dispute has caused others to question authority & greatly consider what is technically ‘right’ versus ‘wrong’. i am the instigator. i made people think. yet, none of this was my intention. at this point, i don’t even know how to be. should i be less kind? should i be less helpful? should i smile less? should i hold a more negative view of the world? should i be even more cold and heartless than i already am? unfortunately, i’m not sure what’s the right way out. i could change the atmosphere all i want. the characters will be different, the setting will vary, but at the end of the day, the same scenario will reoccur. i will stand as the perfectionist. i will be a prime target.